


Significant Annoyances

by Mdeezy



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, ROWELL Rainbow - Works, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie
Genre: Domestic, First Time, I don't know where to draw the lines, M/M, Post Epilogue, Post Series, Sexy times do occur though, Simon is annoying, baz is a sap, kinda smutty but not really???, sassy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 20:49:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7816726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mdeezy/pseuds/Mdeezy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lil' cute domestic Snowbaz, with some casual first time blow jobs and patented sass. You know how it goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Significant Annoyances

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to draft a smutty Snowbaz fic at like four in the morning. Keep in mind that I’m not attracted to boys, nor am I British, nor do I typically write smut. If it’s terrible, that’s probably why. 
> 
> p.s. I literally had to keep a tab open of ‘American words British people don’t use’ to write this. Go you internet. I love you internet. 
> 
> Also, the title's a Rick Riordan reference. Holla.

## Baz

Simon is being especially irritating today.

Now, that’s not to say that he isn’t always irritating (because he is). I just happen to find it less endearing at the moment. He’s been perched on the corner of his bed, less than a meter away from his perfectly good desk, for the better part of an hour. His nose is tucked so tightly into his textbook that I just want to smack it right up into his handsome squinting face.

Sighing more loudly than any man has the right to, I push myself off of the desk chair that Simon refuses to sit in and open the blinds. Simon flinches as if _he’s_ the vampire in this relationship. Honestly.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to read in the dark, Snow?”

Simon looks up at me blankly, completely missing my sarcasm, as usual.

“No,” he says.

“Of course not.” I mutter, punctuated by an eyeroll.

It’s a whole thing.

Simon goes back to studying, completely unbothered by my annoyance, and I go back to watching him (because old habits die hard). Finally, after a frustratingly long amount of time, he slams the book closed and plops it on the bed beside him, stretching his freckly arms. Then he turns to me and gives me a lopsided grin.

“Hey.” he says annoyingly.

“Snow,” I sniff.

Feigning indifference gets harder and harder the longer we’re together, but I still manage just fine.

Simon completely ignores it.

“Penny’s working tonight,” he says. “but I could make us something to eat if you’re hungry.”

My mind flashes to the last time Simon cooked for us. Fire was involved. Turns out, ceiling-high flames are not as easy to wrangle without the aid of a magical garbage disposal. 

We had to call the fire department.

“Let’s order curry.” I suggest. “I’ll buy.”

His eyes go wide for a moment, no doubt pondering the amount of calories my credit card can sustain, before he smiles and says, “Okay.”

I dial our favorite place and wander out into the hallway to make the order.

Upon my return, I catch a glimpse of bare skin that makes me pause in my tracks. Simon has shed his shirt and is facing away from me, his toned back on full display. His wings are spread and he’s massaging one of them in his hand. It’s undoubtedly sore from being tucked tightly against his shoulder all day. He looks like an angel...or well, maybe the alternative. Either way, shirtless Simon Snow is a gift, a gift that I will never stop appreciating.

I come up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. The wings flutter softly in response.

Simon hums softly and turns around so that we are pressed chest to chest. Sometimes it still awes me that this is my life. That Simon Snow wanted this. Wanted me. Continues to want me even.

My heartbeat quickens. He looks good today (and everyday), yet another annoying trait about the ex-chosen one. He places a hand on my chest, right over my racing heart and smiles that quick cocky grin of his.

He leans up and kisses me.

Just once.

Just ever so slightly.

It’s not enough. It’s never enough.

I pull him close and kiss him harder, longer, better. It’s exactly what he wanted me to do and I don’t even care.

“I love you,” he breathes against my lips.

I rest my forehead on his.

“I know.”

I meant it to sound cocky, but it comes out embarrassingly choked with emotion.

Simon pulls us backwards onto the bed. He’s smiling fluidly, one hand rested behind his head and the other at the small of my back. I hover over him and run my fingers across his abs.

He looks like something I could eat, as always.

Before I get the chance to ponder that thought further, the doorbell rings.

“Hold that thought,” I tell him, sliding off the bed. I can feel his eyes on me as I exit the room. It makes it hard to focus. The worst part is, I feasted on a couple of birds before coming here so I’m probably blushing like the lovesick puppy I am.

I pause for a beat at the front door to straighten my collar and smooth my features into a neutral expression before opening it. When I do, I am met by a round faced girl with big green eyes and a mop of shaggy brown hair that haphazardly fades into blue at the tips. Her face immediately lights up with recognition.

“Hey, Baz right? We’re in maths together.”

I scan my mind for any recollection of this girl, but come up short.

“Of course,” I say congenially, refusing to let on. “What was your name again?”

“Kelly. Kelly Sutcliffe.”

I nod a bit too enthusiastically. “Good to see you Kelly.”

I hear footsteps behind me. Simon, predictably impatient for his food.

Kelly’s eyes widen. “You are aware that there is a very attractive dragon man inhabiting your flat, right?”

“It’s his flat actually,” I shrug.

“Even better.” She grins and it’s a wicked and dangerous thing; full of mischief and teeth. I decide that I like this girl.

“Better give me the food,” I urge her. “Dragon boy is likely to eat me if he doesn’t get his dinner soon.”

“You wish!” I hear Simon shout from the kitchen. I _do_ wish actually.

Kelly Sutcliffe hands over three heavy styrofoam containers and gracefully ducks out without batting an eyelash. I make a mental note not to completely ignore her presence the next time I’m at school and bring the food to the kitchen where my hungry little dragon has already dutifully set the table.

“If only you showed _me_ this kind of enthusiasm,” I joke, scooping rice onto my plate.

Simon doles some out for himself and shrugs. It’s the kind of shrug that says _you knew what you were getting yourself into_ , and he isn’t wrong.

We eat in silence, well mostly silence. There’s still Simon’s obscenely loud chewing, but there’s nothing that can be done about it. The boy is set in his ways.

As he polishes off his third helping I wordlessly slide over what’s left on my plate and box up the meager leftovers for Bunce when she gets home. All in all, I ate less than a quarter of it. If Simon doesn’t get his career path sorted out soon I’m going to push for competitive eating.

Simon clears away our plates and starts rinsing them in the sink before I can even offer to spell them clean. It sends a pang through my chest. I love how self-reliant he is now (has always been probably. It’s easy to forget that he grew up with normals), but I also resent the fact that he has to be. It isn’t fair.

I walk up to the sink and plant a kiss on the back of his neck. He shivers in response. I wait for him to set down the plate that he’s holding before pressing my hips firmly against the dip of his lower spine, pinning him against the counter. Simon’s breath hitches and he leans into the touch as I trail kisses along his shoulder up into the crook of his neck.

“Baz,” he says softly, a question.

I dig desperate fingers into his waist and hold on tightly, an answer.

Simon lets out a low moan as I start sucking bruises into his collar bone. It’s the most satisfying sound in the whole world. I have to be careful not to let my fangs pop as saliva pools in my mouth.

“Baz, that feels so good,” he says, almost absentmindedly.

I immediately harden.

Simon can feel it, tight against his bare skin, separated only by a thin layer of denim. His tail gives a little jerk from the inside of his pants. The low guttural sound he makes is enough to set my highly flammable skin on fire.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whispers, arching his back.

I couldn’t agree more.

Simon reaches back and tugs my wrists away from his sides. It takes him less than a second to turn us around so that my back is pressed into the counter, dishes long forgotten. He presses hard hot (he’s always so _hot_ ) kisses into my mouth, palms firmly planted on either side of my jaw and fingertips curled into my neck possessively. Simon presses a thigh up against my crotch and grinds to the same rhythm as his jaw, working slowly up and down against my open mouth.  

The noise I make is shrill and animalistic, but Simon eats it up, catching my bottom lip between his teeth.

He pulls back and looks me in the eyes for a brief moment, no doubt seeing the same hooded passion I see mirrored in his.

And then his hand is hovering on the waistband of my jeans. We’ve never gotten this far before, but we both knew it was coming. We’ve been together for months and we could only hold out for so long. We’re already pathetic saps for each other, so there’s no pressure behind the gesture. There is no amount of embarrassing fumbling that could ever make me love him less. There’s just longing and pent up desire. Nothing to lose and everything to gain. The realization makes my head swim.

I hold my breath as he undoes the button and zipper with fumbling fingers and then release it to help him slide the fabric down to my ankles.

Simon looks down at the obvious tent in my boxers and swallows his showiest swallow. I tug off my T-shirt and look at him pointedly.

Slowly, ( _painfully_ slowly) Simon sinks down to his knees in front of me. With shaking hands he hooks his fingers inside of the waistband of my boxers on either side. He pauses, looking up at me with wide eyes and blushing cheeks, teeth working at a corner of his bottom lip.

I meet his stare as evenly as I can with all the fireworks going off in my chest. (I feel so damn _alive_ ).

“I swear to God Simon, if you’re mouth doesn’t find it’s mark within the next ten seconds I’ll— _Ahhhh_.”

A strangled cry is ripped from my lips as Simon roughly pulls down my shorts and takes me into his mouth all in one fluid motion.

My hips jerk upwards against his mouth and Simon _bloody_ Snow presses a firm hand into my hip to keep me still as he takes me in deeper.

My head lolls back and I whisper his name reverently, not even caring how wrecked my voice sounds. How is he so good at this? Dick sucking is one skill I know for sure that he did not learn from Agatha.

Simon hums appreciatively. The sensation makes me shudder.

And suddenly I can’t stand it anymore. I’m thinking about all of the elaborate fantasies I’ve woven over the years and how they pale in comparison to the stark and simple truth of Simon Snow, just as in love with me as I am him, blowing me in the middle of his kitchen on a random Tuesday afternoon. I can’t hold out any longer.

“Simon,” I whisper. “I gonna—”

Simon pulls away, trading his mouth for his hand and gives three hard strokes before I’m coming into his fist with a whimper that is truly unworthy of my dignified name and stature.

When I open my eyes Simon is grinning smugly. I stifle whatever self-satisfied rhetoric he’s about to spew at me with a kiss.

I don’t stop at his mouth. I trail cool wet kisses all the way down his throat and chest, to the soft patch of blonde hair below his navel, taking my time and luxuriating in the sensation, just like I’ve always wanted to.

Simon hisses and clenches his fists at his sides. Goosebumps prickle under my mouth. 

He’s wearing nothing but pajama bottoms (Dracula patterned cuz he thinks he’s funny), so I easily tug them and his underpants off together. His tail whips out behind him with a fervor that speaks volumes about his current state of arousal. I glance down and take a moment to admire Simon; this boy that I love, have always loved, who is both special and irremarkable in every possible way. He’s bigger than I expected him to be and that knowledge sends a quick rush of heat shuddering down my spine.

I swallow him up using my hand to stroke the part I can’t fit in my mouth and look up at Simon through my lashes.

“Oh,” he cries softly, one hand fisted in my hair and one in his mouth.

I maintain eye-contact as I bob slowly up and down. Simon doesn’t back down from my gaze, but bites down harder on his fist.

I pull away for a moment. 

“Let me hear you, Love.”

Simon lets his fist drop and moans so loudly I can feel it rattle in my tonsils as I continue sucking. I dig my hands into his muscled thighs and focus on taking him deeper.

“Oh. Aleister Crowley, Baz. Please don’t stop,” He hisses, thrusting into my mouth.

I pick up the pace, running my tongue over the tip each time and trying not to gag.

“Baz,” Simon hisses in warning. He tries to back away from me, but I just grip him tighter. 

He shudders and then stiffens before coming on my tongue. I continue sucking and pumping him though it. He’s just gasping and panting, saying my name over and over again like it’s lost all meaning.

When he finally goes still I stop, pulling away and swallowing without hesitation. Simon looks at me with awe written plainly across his face.

He reaches down and pulls me to my feet. He whispers my name one last time and holds me close. I’m reveling in this new feeling of skin against skin. Nothing left between us. The way Simon embraces me and softly presses his lips against mine is somehow one-thousand times more intimate then everything we just did. 

We stay like that for a long time, arms wrapped around each other’s waists, lips barely touching. At one point I feel the tips of Simon’s wings poking into my back as well. They’re wrapped around my torso like an extra layer of hug and I can’t help but laugh. Simon smiles and I trail my fingers up the notches of his spine.

“Thank you,” he whispers against my lips.

I pull back, frowning. “Don’t say thank you for sexual favors Simon. It's not classy.”

He cracks a grin. “Since when am I classy?”

“Since you started dating _me_ , obviously. It comes with the territory.”

Simon shakes his head a little but doesn’t argue. He just reaches up and strokes along my jaw with the pad of his thumb.

I sigh contentedly and rest my chin on his forehead.

“I love you,” I tell him. I mean it more and more every time.

“I know,” he mimics with a smirk.

I shove him a little and he laughs and we both have the most sickening smiles plastered on our faces as we clean up and put our clothes back on and saunter into the living room where we kiss lazily on the couch and watch TV curled up together until Penny gets home and pretends to be grossed out by our shameless amounts of “eye fucking” in communal living spaces (if only she knew).

With that, we retire to Simon’s bedroom for the night where we continue to kiss and fawn over each other and be disgustingly in love until we’re both too sleepy to keep our eyes open.

I fall asleep curled into the crook of Simon Snow’s arm.

I really am living a charmed life.

**Author's Note:**

> But he was still annoying though.
> 
> This is a oneshot at the moment, but if people express interest I might consider expanding it. I have some ideas brewing involving a certain Kelly Sutcliffe. Muahahaha 
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr @Retoondant


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